Cuffs and Kilts
by Hibbleton78
Summary: When a reluctant Bella heads out of town for a conference for work she returns to find her hotel overrun by cops. A gorgeous man is hard to resist. A gorgeous man in a kilt? Impossible.
1. Chapter 1

**This is gonna be a quick one. Looks like 3 chapters, all relatively short. I have the 2nd almost done (just finish up the last part of the last scene) and then I'll write the 3rd. I'll try and get those done quickly so I can update once a week.**

**Thanks to burntcore for stepping in to take the beta reigns on this one!**

**Oh, and I don't really need to tell you all that I'm not Stephanie and I don't own anything, right? I mean, we're all smarter than that, right? Okay, good.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

"Is that . . . bagpipes?" I asked, looking around but seeing nothing aside from my friends and dozens of cars parked in tight, little spaces.

"Who the hell plays bagpipes in a hotel garage?" Alice asked as she pushed her now useless sunglasses on top of her head and moved to stand next to me. The two of us continued to glance around, unable to pinpoint which direction the sound was coming from due to the echo.

I turned when Rosalie tapped the trunk to get our attention. "Who gives a shit? As long as whoever it is isn't practicing in the room next to ours."

The hotel lobby was mercifully quiet, the mystery bagpiper remaining outdoors. I spaced out as Rosalie took over check-in thinking about the million things to do and how little time I had to do it.

"Here is your parking pass," the hotel employee said as he slid a hang-tag across the counter. "Keep this in your car, and if you can, try not to leave the garage or you may not have a spot if you return too late. We have a special event taking place in the hotel this weekend, so the garage will fill up quickly."

"Fantastic," I mumbled as I took my key card from Rosalie and we headed off to find our room.

The elevator was slow in arriving, and when it opened three old men with bagpipes stepped off. Rosalie turned with a quirked eyebrow and her nose scrunched in disgust as if to say, "You've got to be kidding me."

Our room was on one of the upper floors, and the curtains were pulled back to frame the fantastic view of Lake Erie, the football stadium, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Not bad, Cleveland. Not bad.

With little time to spare, I freshened up quickly, cringed at the amount of cleavage showing, shoved my luggage into the closet, and left my friends behind to relax while I headed to another hotel across town.

I was still a little bitter. I'd been given just a week's notice that I had to attend a conference for work, and by that point the hotel hosting the event was booked solid, as were most of the other hotels in downtown Cleveland. By a stroke of luck my travel agent managed to find a single available room not too far away. It was still a pain, but things started to look up when Alice and Rosalie decided to burn a couple vacation days to join me.

Playing the part of devoted employee, I was prepared to spend the evening networking with all the right people and schmoozing with others my boss hoped to work with in the future, all the while counting down until I could make my escape. Free food, a live band, and an open bar were all that people seemed to need in order to ignore that this was simply one giant sales pitch. As long as someone else was footing the bill they were more than happy to stick around.

I gave one last discreet tug at my dress, still uncomfortable with how much skin I was showing, and glanced around the ballroom. I spotted an executive my boss had been trying to get ahold of in recent months, and claimed the last available seat at his table. I introduced myself to my tablemates—a couple of whom I fortunately knew already giving me an easy in—and conversation shifted to business talk where it stayed for most of the evening. After dinner I found myself wandering from group to group, fresh drink always in hand, discussing everything from which companies in our industry were going under to new tricks others had found success in streamlining their operations. Just after ten, I was mentally exhausted and ready to unwind so I said my goodbyes and made a bee-line for the door.

A cab was already waiting in front so I slid in and gave the driver the name of my own hotel. As soon as I sat down I realized just how sore my body was from so much standing and walking, and I wasted no time in kicking my shoes off and wiggling my toes. It was delightfully painful, and I momentarily contemplated walking into the hotel barefoot.

The ride was quiet, but the silence was something much appreciated after an evening of people, noise, and music. With nothing to occupy my attention and the alcohol still in my system I found it difficult to keep my eyes open. We'd only turned the corner when I realized traffic was at a standstill and my curiosity woke me up. From what I could tell there had been both baseball and basketball games that evening and I arrived just in time to catch the post-game rush.

As we neared my hotel, the driver was forced to reroute. Police cars and buses idled in front of the main entrance, blocking the lanes in one direction, but I could only catch a glance as we passed by. We looped the block in order to get to the entrance from the other direction. When the cab stopped at the red light at the opposite end of the block, my jaw dropped. Men in kilts, what seemed like hundreds of them, walked the street and loaded onto buses. As the light turned green and the taxi continued onward, I saw them gathered in groups on the sidewalk and pouring into my hotel.

The driver stopped just in front of the lobby, but I was too dumbfounded to notice until he read off my fare. The noise of dozens of conversations snapped me out of my stupor and I clambered out, reaching behind me for my purse.

"Have a nice night," the cab driver said as he pocketed the cash I'd handed him.

I offered a small smile. "Thanks. You too."

Before heading inside, I took a moment to try to figure out what was going on. Down the block, it looked like people were still streaming from a building near our hotel, many carrying instruments to be loaded onto large box trucks. It appeared that there'd been some sort of concert.

As I neared the crowds I noticed a mix of men and women, maybe a third of them—mostly men—in kilts. Many of them wore t-shirts bearing the logos of various police departments.

Not that I had any idea what being a cop had to do with wearing kilts. I sure as hell never saw my dad sporting one . . . unless I blocked it out, which was entirely possible. No one, especially not me, needed to see Charlie's knobby knees peeking out from a skirt.

The lobby was packed so tightly with people it was nearly impossible to move. After the tenth person gave me a full up and down look I realized that somehow, in a sea of kilted men and women, my form fitting "little black dress" made me the oddball.

We were herded toward the elevators like livestock, and though it took a while, I finally made my way onto one. When it stopped on the fourth floor most of the people got out, but just as many got on. On my floor, groups were wandering up and down the halls, beers in hand as they caught up with one another.

I ducked my head and maneuvered the crowd until I found my room, moderately annoyed that Rosalie and Alice were M.I.A. since we'd had plans to meet back here when I was done. There was no way to see over to the bar while I was downstairs, but I was pretty sure that was where I'd find them. I dropped my bag of clothes just inside and turned around, ready to reverse my path. The wait for the elevator took forever but I had a little more breathing room than it did on the trip up. That didn't last long, though, since we had to stop at every floor to pick up more kilted cops and drop them off on the fourth floor.

By the time I made it to the main level, the crowd has dispersed significantly. It was still busy, but not wall to wall people like it had been just ten minutes ago. I assumed most must have found their way to the party going on a few floors above.

I searched each group of people that I passed, and as soon as I made it to the bar area, I stood on my tiptoes trying to peer over the heads of those inside. Alice would be impossible to find, but Rosalie was always hard to miss. With my search unsuccessful, I stepped further inside, scanning all around me as I started dialing my phone. Calls to both girls went to voicemail and I couldn't help but grumble.

"Lost?" a voice asked from behind me.

I turned around, finding myself at a loss for words. The first thing I noticed about the man towering over me was the eyes; even in the dim lighting of the bar I could tell that they were a vibrant shade of green. My field of vision expanded to take in the kind of face I'd usually expect to see in an ad campaign for Armani—rugged, handsome, with an angular jaw sporting a couple days' worth of growth. His hair was purposefully messy, the color I couldn't pinpoint . . . light brown, maybe some blond in there, perhaps some red. I wasn't sure how much of the shade was due to the light, but it didn't really matter.

My perusal continued as I noticed that he, too, was wearing a kilt. His navy blue tee with a small, simple white logo on the left side of his chest made it look so casual and laid-back. I'd never given much thought to the appeal of a kilt before, but clearly I'd been missing something good. Damn good. Tartan was officially my new weakness. A visual aphrodisiac.

Though my assessment only took seconds. I started to blush when I realized I'd been ogling. Then it occured to me that he'd been doing the same thing.

"Lost?" I repeated. "No, not really."

One side of his mouth pulled up into a crooked grin. "Well, clearly you aren't here for the Tattoo," he said, motioning to my dress with a wave of his hand and another appraisal of my body. "You looked like you could use some help."

"Tattoo?" I asked, having no clue what he was referring to.

He laughed and motioned to his kilt. "The reason for this. The International Police Tattoo . . . a concert of sorts that's held every year over at the Cleveland Public Auditorium. What about you? What brings you here?"

I looked down at my dress and felt self-conscious at how it made me stand out in the crowd. "Oh, uh, conference for work across town. Now I'm just trying to track down my friends."

"Let me guess . . . tiny little sprite with lots of pink and sparkles, and a blonde Amazon in painted-on red?"

The laugh lines at the corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement. Remembering how many people passed through this hotel just a short while ago, his accuracy confused me. "Yeah," I said slowly, and he held his hand out for me. I looked at it and back up to him to see him roll his eyes before reaching down to take my hand.

"They're upstairs with my friends. C'mon, I was just headed up there anyway."

I hesitated for a moment, but his smile was so disarming that I was sure I'd do anything he asked. I nodded decisively and allowed him to lead me from the bar. I said nothing as we walked through the lobby; others called out their greetings to him as we passed. I tried to come up with something to say to keep conversation flowing, but I was too distracted by the feel of his warm, rough hand wrapped around mine.

He pressed the button to call the elevator, but didn't let go of my hand. I didn't want him to, and I realized I was thinking too much about such a simple gesture, but it didn't stop me from loosening my grip to give him an 'out' should he want to take it. Instead, he tightened his hold, and I fought back a smile.

As we stepped onto the elevator and others crowded around us, I realized that we hadn't exchanged names. I felt like an idiot asking him with so many people within listening range so I tugged his hand until he leaned down close enough that I could speak quietly.

I still kind of felt silly simply because this was a formality that should've been taken care of long before I left the bar with him. He looked confused, and there was probably a smoother way to broach the topic, but I blurted, "I'm Bella."

He grinned as he leaned back to look at me again. His free hand brushed a stray hair away from my face, making me melt. "_Bella_," he repeated, testing the name and smiling his approval.

I didn't say anything, I just waited. A moment later he leaned closer so that he could speak directly into my ear making my heart race from his proximity and the tickle of his breath against my skin. "I'm Edward."

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><p><strong>AN: So in her notes to me, burntcore mentioned that the only way that those two games would have been on the same day (not to mention let out at the same time) is if the Cavs made it to the playoffs. Hell, I had no clue (it's a toss up which sport I dislike more, baseball or basketball) and I figured an even remotely canon Bella would be even more clueless than me, especially as an out-of-towner here. But I thought I'd mention it here just in case any of you who DO like either or both sports would notice ;-) I also figured she wouldn't know or care that the stadium her room overlooked was the Browns. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A little bit early but since it's Friday in Australia and therefore the beautiful, hilarious, and talents Anna Faze is celebrating a birthday! And no one appreciates a man in a kilt like Anna Faze.**

**Thanks so much to all of you reading! And thanks to burntcore for taking a turn as beta on this one. I ended up adding/changing some stuff so blame any mistakes on me. I'm sure there are quite a few since I've been traveling for work all week and am barely awake at the moment.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

When the elevator doors opened to the fourth floor, the noise level was deafening. Between the pounding bass of the music and the enthusiasm with which these cops celebrated, it was difficult to hear anything clearly.

"She's with me," Edward yelled to a woman at the door who appeared to be checking for party crashers. She waved us in and Edward pulled me behind him. The crowd was so dense that it was impossible to walk side by side, so instead he took the lead but tightened his grip so we wouldn't be separated. I tripped and stumbled my way, finding it difficult to navigate the crowd in heels.

Edward turned and leaned down to my ear, yelling, "Right over there." He pointed to our left but I couldn't see over the crowd so I nodded, trusting him to lead me where I needed to go.

"I think I found something that belongs to you," I heard him say moments before pulling me around to his side.

"Ohmigod, Bella . . . I thought we lost you!"

If the glassy eyes weren't enough of an indication that Rosalie was racing past tipsy, the disappearance of her hard-ass exterior was undeniable proof.

"Oh!" Alice said, bouncing a little in her seat as she tried to maintain balance on the wobbly stool. "I texted you."

"No you didn't," I said.

"Yes I did," she countered, dragging each of the words out as she fumbled for her phone.

I let go of Edward's hand to dig my phone out of my purse. Seeing no new messages, I held it up to her. "No . . . you didn't."

I tried to hold back my laugh at the confused puppy reaction she gave before she finally shrugged her shoulders and said, "Well, I texted someone."

"Why don't we put that away before you lose it," said a man standing next to her as he took the phone from her and put it back into her purse. Unlike me, he didn't bother to stifle his laugh.

I couldn't help but notice the stars in Alice's eyes, like this man was her own personal guardian angel sent to watch over her.

"Hi, I'm Jasper," he said, holding his hand out for me to shake.

"Oh! Jasper!" Alice interrupted. "This is Bella. My best friend in the whole, wide world."

"Hey!" Rosalie yelled and Alice's eyes widened comically.

"My other best friend in the whole, wide world," Alice corrected.

I shook my head and laughed. "Nice to meet you."

The three picked up where they'd left off in the conversation we'd interrupted. I could only pretend to follow along because my mind was too focused on the way Edward continued to touch me. Though he had fulfilled his promise to reunite me with my friends, it seemed he wasn't ready to be rid of me yet. Not that I was complaining. The room was crowded but not so much that he _had_ to stand so close that we were constantly connected in some way. I shivered at the feel of his hand running absent trails from my waist, to lower back, and occasionally traveling up my arm.

"You want a drink?" he asked, lifting his hand and tilting it in the universal symbol in case I couldn't hear over the music and conversation. I nodded and watched as he turned slightly and stretched above all the heads around us. He made the same motion to someone I couldn't see, then held up two fingers. I glanced around but couldn't tell who he was motioning to.

I continued to pretend to follow the conversation for the next few minutes until another person arrived. Loaded down with drinks, he carefully set them down on the table and began distributing. His size and build would've made him intimidating it if hadn't been for the massive smile accented with dimples.

"And the crew continues to grow," he said.

Edward stepped in to finish off the introductions. "Bella, this is Emmett."

"Ah, another beauty graces us with her presence," he said, winking.

I laughed; as big a flirt as he seemed to be it was clear he was just being friendly. "Nice to meet you."

Edward's hand moved up under my hair to the back of my neck and I could feel my breath start to tremble as his thumb passed back and forth over my skin. I glanced over at him and was caught in a heated stare, as if he was waiting to see how I'd react. Somehow his touches felt so much more intimate than anything else I'd ever experienced and I couldn't help but wonder if he was going to kiss me.

Before I could find out, the sound of Rosalie yelling out over the crowd broke the spell.

"What's going on with this?"

I had a moment of panic at what she was about to do as I saw her reach toward Emmett's kilt. At the last second I realized she was going for his holster, and flicked at the little flap. With a proud grin Emmett held it up so everyone could see. "Refills!"

At the realization that he'd loaded his holster with bottles of beer we all doubled over with laughter. With the bottles upside down, he could fit two inside. The guys high-fived him for his ingenuity, and then Edward used the levity of the moment to move in even closer without being noticed. His arm tightened around my waist to pull me as his nose went to my hair. The rumble of his laugh gave me chills.

He put his drink down on the table before taking mine and doing the same. Without a word, we managed to hold an entire conversation.

A furrowed brow and tilt of the head asked him, _What?_

A lazy grin and a nod in the direction of the crowd behind us responded, _Dance with me?_

Wide, scared eyes and a frantic head shake said, _Not such a good idea._

A deliberate nod, entwined fingers, and a tug of the hands let me know, _You don't have a choice._

I followed him to an open space where we'd be able to hide in the crowd. Still holding my hand, he wrapped his free arm around my waist and tugged me closer—so close there was no space between us. We moved together slowly, paying no mind to the actual beat or rhythm of the music that played. It was amazing how being so close to him made everyone and everything else disappear. Though I knew we were surrounded by a tightly packed group it could've just been the two of us in that room. All of my attention was focused on him: his warmth, the smell of his cologne, and strangely enough, even the feel of his kilt brushing against my bare legs. It was a little odd, something to get used to, but for some reason I really, _really_ liked it.

We stayed like that, staring into each other eyes, as one song after another played. He seemed to have so much to say, and there was so much I wanted to learn about him, but our location wasn't exactly conducive to conversation.

His hand came up to push the hair from my face and lingered at my cheek. The soft touch of rough hands a delicious contradiction. My heart began to race, and judging from the rapid beat under my hand where it rested on his chest, I wasn't the only one affected.

I jumped when I felt a tap at my shoulder and turned to see an apologetic Rosalie. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm heading out and didn't want you to forget this."

She handed me my purse then backed away with a smile and wink.

As the moment passed, things felt as awkward as the laugh that slipped from my lips. Edward reached for my hand, his fingers twine with mine. With his other hand he cupped my cheek and intently watched his thumb trace my lower lip.

"Do you need to go?" he asked.

"I don't think I want to go yet."

He smiled, appearing relieved and stepped closer to me. We started moving again, though with a little more space between us than before. As I looked up at him, I knew I was leaving with him tonight. It wasn't like me at all, and the little voice inside my head told me to slow down, but it seemed inevitable and unavoidable. Even knowing that Rosalie and Alice would be brutal in their teasing and information mining when I was alone with them again didn't seem to matter. I was going to follow him out of this room and not look back.

The opportunity to do so came just a short while later. We'd gravitated closer and closer until we were back to that intense proximity that Rosalie had interrupted. The people around us were getting rowdier the more they drank, and we couldn't go more than a few seconds without getting bumped.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked.

"Let's go," I said without hesitation.

He regarded me for a moment before one side of his mouth pulled up into a crooked smile. I laughed as he dragged me behind him from the room and to the elevator. There was no question as to where we'd go from here.

The elevator ride was excruciatingly long, and although it wasn't nearly as crowded as it had been earlier, it was still a tight fit. All I wanted was a tiny bit of privacy so I could finally kiss Edward, but that wasn't in the cards quite yet. Instead he pulled me against him, my back to his front, and pressed kisses to my shoulder and neck. And the feel of what the kilt wasn't hiding so well told me he was as ready as I was to move things along.

When the doors opened to his floor, he guided me forward with his hands at my waist. He spun me around just as the door dinged closed once more leaving us in total privacy for the first time. It was short-lived, though. His mouth was just inches from mine when we heard cat-calling and whistles as a rowdy group appeared and waited for the next elevator down.

"Fuck," he grumbled and once more dragged me along.

He fumbled with the key when we arrived at his door until the damn thing finally cooperated and flashed green. I didn't even have a chance to see the room before I was pressed back against the closing door. I almost expected a bruising kiss, but he stopped himself and hovered teasingly close.

"God you're so beautiful," he said. "I've wanted to do this since I saw you walk in downstairs."

I took a shaky breath just before his lips touched mine, soft and gentle, flavored with a hint of alcohol. He released a quiet grunt before tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Tingles shot through my body at the perfect suck and pull of his mouth. Another shaky breath gave him the opportunity to add his tongue to the mix, making me whimper. He was intoxicating, and the way his entire body pressed me into the door made me feel cut off from the world, like it was just me and him.

As the first kiss to end all first kisses continued, he shifted even closer, moving one of his legs between mine. I was again reminded of his kilt when I felt his bare calf against mine. I lifted one of my legs, hooking it around his and letting it rise, feeling it push the kilt up, up, up. He took advantage of the change in position and grinded against me. I groaned at that hint of what he had to offer, eager to continue.

He snaked a hand between the door and my back, pulling my hips closer to his. I couldn't help but gasp, then whimper, as he began to move away. When I realized where he was leading us, I followed. He sat on the edge of the bed while I stood before him. His hands slid up and down the backs of my legs, knees to thighs, pushing my dress just a little higher with each pass.

With his knees spread apart to make room for me to stand in between, the kilt was pushed wide open, and I knew I'd only need to take a few steps back to find out if he was traditional in how he wore it. Before I could consider it, he pulled me down to straddle him. I brought both of my hands to his face and kissed him again as his hands resumed their path and continued to urge my dress up.

"You feel so good," he whispered and I instinctively pushed myself against his lap making him groan.

I felt his hand search for my zipper and whispered, "Take it off."

He cursed under his breath and wasted no time unzipping me. I leaned back to allow the fabric to gather at my hips. With one arm still braced around me, his free hand came up to trace my bra strap down to the lace of the cup. The light touch was a thousand times more sensual than had he gone straight for my breast. As his finger started to hook into the fabric he looked up at me to ask permission. My nod was enough for him and he pulled the cup down, exposing me to him. I felt the tip of his tongue first, then his lips, before he added just a hint of teeth. My head fell back as I rocked myself against him. His movements turned bolder, as did mine, and the next thing I knew he had flipped us around so that I was stretched across the bed with him above me.

My dress quickly found its new home on the floor, and I watched as he reached behind him to pull his shirt over his head. His hands went to his kilt, and I shook my head, holding a hand up to stop him. "No! Leave it."

He grinned a cocky, little smirk. "You like?"

I nodded.

"Does it do something for you?"

"God yes," I moaned as he moved up my body to hold himself above me again.

"Do you wonder about the rumors?" he asked, trailing kisses up my stomach.

"What—" I grunted as he nipped my skin. "What rumors?"

He chuckled, and in a moment of clarity I remembered what I had been thinking about earlier as he stopped to pay attention to my breasts, making me forget all over again.

"About what's under, or more specifically, what's _not_ under there."

"What was the question?" I asked as my back arched in response to his attentions.

He moved up to my ear and whispered, "Do you want to find out?"

I could only nod as he guided my hand to the hem of the kilt and placed it on his thigh. I didn't need any further urging to explore. I could hear and feel his shallow breaths against my neck as my hand moved up his leg to a decidedly bare hip, and I took power in the effect I had on him. It was what gave me the confidence to keep going—to slide forward with a barely there brush of my fingertips until I found him hard, hot, and ready for the next step in this game. His hips thrust against my hand on reflex, and I began to work him until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Christ, woman. This'll be over way too soon if you keep that up."

I laughed and pulled my hand from under the kilt, gripping at his lower back instead. I arched off the bed when I felt him trying to get my bra off. I whimpered at the loss when he sat up on his knees.

I should've felt self-conscious at the way he watched at me without saying a word, but there was something about him that made me feel comfortable in my own skin. The heat of his stare made me feel adored.

Without taking his eyes from mine he reached out and curled his fingers into the fabric of my panties and pulled them down, leaving me completely exposed to him. My heart rate picked up and I could feel myself trembling in anticipation.

He hovered over me again to kiss me, slow and sensual, but neither of us could wait much longer. He scrambled off of the bed and began searching through his things while I watched. The clank of metal caught my attention and I rolled to peer over the side of the bed where a pair of handcuffs had landed on the floor. I reached down to pick them up and quirked an eyebrow at him. His smirk matched mine as he winked and said, "Maybe later."

He climbed back onto the bed, holding up a condom like it was the winning lottery ticket. A combination of nervousness and excitement twisted in my gut as we worked together—me pushing the kilt up his thighs, him rolling the latex on.

The moment he was finished he pinned me to the bed, mouths clashing and bodies undulating trying to find a way to get closer. In no time at all he was making me feel things I'd never felt before. His movements were sure, hitting spots no one had before. The kilt only added to the sensation, hiding from view what we could feel but not see.

I grasped at him, strong lean muscles flexing under my hands. A slight sheen of sweat began to form on our bodies from exertion. His words were quiet in my ear, but his voice was deeper and rougher. His eyes kept returning to mine and staying there for long stretches of time, increasing the intimacy even more.

Frenzied and desperate I lost all concept of time, only concerned about the release that teased just out of reach until all of a sudden it wasn't. The metaphorical cord snapped and my body tensed, vaguely aware of how he continued to move in an attempt to stretch it out as long as possible. Breathless and boneless, I gathered what little energy was left to make sure his release was just as exhilarating. Judging by the vigor with which he made his final thrusts, it worked.

We spent hours talking about everything and nothing, learning about each other beyond physical attraction. The more we shared the more I realized he was someone I could easily fall for. The clock slowly drifted closer to morning so after one more round we both fell asleep still holding onto one another cursing the new day and the return to real life it would bring with it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Last one! Thanks for tagging along for this short, mostly pointless, but hopefully fun little story about kilts. I especially love all you kilt enthusiasts (read: kilt pervs) who appreciated that the kilt stayed on last chapter ;-)**

**Thanks once again to burntcore for taking the beta reigns.**

**Now let's get on with it, shall we?**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

What felt like a mere ten minutes after falling asleep I woke up with a start and scrambled to find the clock. Just as I'd feared I was already running late for the day's meetings. An awkward moment ensued as I tried to figure out how to handle leaving. Did I wake him? Let him sleep? Leave a note?

Unfortunately, the one thing I wanted to do—stay—was out of the question. My boss would have my ass if I skipped out. So instead I tried to wake him. Whisper his name, nudge, whisper, nudge, nudge_._ No reaction beyond a slight mumbling before he turned over. I threw my clothes back on and tried again with no success. I mentally berated myself as I started for the door then went back to the bed. Sat down then stood up. I couldn't make up my mind and had no idea what the protocol was for this kind of thing.

Time was running short so I opted to leave a note, although deciding what to write took way too much time until I hastily scrawled an apology that I had to leave or I'd be late to my conference. With shoes in hand I gave one last longing look at the bed and the body half covered upon it. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the kilt haphazardly thrown on the chair in the corner and wondered if I could sneak out with it. Laughing at my absurdity I stepped barefoot into the hall—then immediately regretted the note. For a moment I debated knocking on the door but I was already too far behind.

I growled in frustration as I turned and trudged toward the elevator, afraid with each step that someone would walk out of their room and see me in my very first walk of shame. I made it to the bank of elevators unseen but I wasn't lucky enough to have an empty car. A man was already inside, smirking at me as I ducked my head and tried my best to hide, hoping he'd ignore me.

No such luck.

"Shit, Cullen strikes again," he said.

He was laughing to himself but it was clear he wanted my attention. I stiffened at his words though I tried my best to hide the effect. I couldn't help but wonder even though I knew he was trying to get a reaction.

"I swear the women just flock to that smooth bastard. I don't know how he does it," he said, still laughing.

Without thinking I glanced over at him and immediately turned my attention back to the slowly increasing numbers above the door.

Three floors to go, two floors, one floor. His continued chuckling made me uncomfortable, and when the doors finally opened to my floor I pushed my way through them and sped down the hall. I didn't realize I was shaking until I struggled to slip the keycard in the slot.

Inside the room I took my first full breath and closed my eyes until I calmed down. Once the moment had passed I rushed to my suitcase. I didn't have much time to think about how Alice and Rosalie's night had gone, but since the room was empty it was obvious theirs took the same turn as mine.

For a split second I contemplated messing up my bed just to buy some time with those two.

Thirty minutes later I was rushing out of the hotel with slightly damp hair and jumping in the cab the hotel had called for me after deciding that traversing the parking garage here and then finding a spot there would take too much time—time that was quickly running short.

I sat down in the conference room and had just enough time to catch my breath and hit record on the digital recorder before the panel moderator stood behind the lectern and introduced the speakers. With my backup rolling I allowed myself to space out a bit.

At first my mind wandered to the night before, and I had to press my lips tightly together to keep the goofy smile from spreading across my face. A fluttering in my stomach made me fidget. All too soon my thoughts took a turn and I started to fret over whether we'd been too obvious, who had seen us, and what they must've thought. What I had been so sure about last night I now questioned, letting my self-consciousness get the best of me. This time I fidgeted for a new reason—the worry over how people might look at me when I walked back into the hotel later. For some reason it felt like everyone knew and everyone cared, no matter how unrealistic my logical side knew it was.

Then there was the question over whether I'd ever see him again. We hadn't talked about it, and I'd left with just that note—no phone numbers, no email addresses.

As the worst-case scenarios began to take over, my brain decided to pile on. My curiosity returned to the man in the elevator. I had no idea who he was so I knew I shouldn't give his words much credence, but at the same time I recognized that I barely knew Edward. For all I knew, he could be the kind of guy who does this sort of thing every weekend, as much as I wanted to believe otherwise.

I tried not to question his character with no real basis, but once the seed was planted it was hard to not wonder.

When it came down to it, my biggest hang up about the night before was me. In the light of day and separated from the situation, I couldn't help but question myself. I cursed the conference once again because I knew that it was the distance that made me doubt everything. If I'd been able to stay and talk through a few things with him maybe some of last night's confidence would've carried over.

At three o'clock the last seminar of the day ended. I hopped into a cab and made the ten minute trek over to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to meet the girls. The cabbie idled by the curb in front of the iconic pyramid where I could see Alice and Rosalie waiting for me.

From the barely contained smirks on their faces as I approached, I knew they'd been waiting all day to attack me with questions.

"Sooo," Rosalie started, dragging out the word in encouragement for me to begin.

I scanned the entrance area to the museum, avoiding her eyes. "So what?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Alice said. "Last night?"

I shrugged. "What about your night?"

"You really want to go there?" Rosalie asked. "You know I don't spare details."

I scrunched my nose and glanced at the school group lingering within earshot. "Yeah, maybe not."

She hooked her arm with mine and led me inside, Alice snickering behind us. I was able to buy a little time as we paid for our entrance and had a cheesy group picture taken to be superimposed over a stock image of the pyramid.

My respite lasted until we made it to the lower level.

"You going to see him again?"

I glanced over at Alice and looked away. "I don't know. I mean, probably not. I don't even have a way to get in touch with him."

A strange twisting in my gut accompanied the words. As much as I questioned my behavior, it still hurt to think I'd never cross paths with him again.

"What do you mean? You didn't even trade numbers?"

A few people turned to look at us and I held up my hand to show my wristband to the staff member guarding the doors to the exhibits.

"We never got around to it last night!" I whisper-yelled.

"And this morning?" Rosalie asked.

"I had to leave. I was running late."

She looked at me critically then her eyes widened. "Did you sneak out?"

"I told you, I was running late!" I glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to us. "It's not like I didn't try to wake him up to say goodbye. He wouldn't budge so I had to leave a note."

Both girls started laughing and Alice said, "Isn't it the guy who's supposed to sneak off in the middle of the night without a word?"

Rosalie snorted and added, "She probably broke his little tartan heart."

I could feel my face heating up with a blush. "Thanks, guys. Really."

"Oh, come on, you know we don't mean anything by it," Rosalie said, bumping her shoulder with mine.

"I know. It's just . . ." I trailed off.

Alice gave me a sympathetic look. "It's okay. We know."

"And who knows," Rosalie said, "you may see him again one day."

Ready for the conversation to end I pretended to read the little information plaques placed by each artifact in the display cases. Taking my hint, the girls did the same and the three of moved from one section to the next.

I was in a room dedicated stage outfits from dozens of different artists when I felt someone move in behind me.

"Not that I doubt you could pull it off, but you don't seem the 'gypsy' type."

My breath caught in my throat at the sound of his voice. My heart raced in double time and it took a few seconds before I was able to compose myself enough to speak.

Without turning around to look at him, instead focusing on Stevie Nicks' dress in front of me, I joked, "I'm just pondering the little known effects of heavy drug use. This thing looks like it was made for a third grader. Even Alice couldn't fit into it and I'm pretty sure she's part leprechaun."

He barked out a laugh and I worked up the nerve to turn to him. His eyes were shining—he was smiling, happy. He didn't seem upset at the way I handled leaving, and I breathed a little easier.

I was still nervous though. All those fears that had distracted me all afternoon raced to the forefront of my mind, but they were difficult to hang onto when he reached out to gently push a stray lock of hair out of my face and let his fingertips linger against my skin.

"You left," he said so quietly I could barely hear him.

I had to look away from him, all of a sudden finding my shoes to be the most interesting thing in the room. "I'm sorry. I tried to wake you but I was running late."

"I sleep like the dead," he said with a chuckle. "I'm not sure a Mack truck driving through the room can wake me once I'm out."

Someone bumped into him, reminding us that we were blocking foot traffic. He led me out of the way so we'd have a little more privacy. "I'm sorry. I wish I would've gone about this better."

I started to speak, unsure of what I'd say, when he stopped me.

"I'm really glad I didn't miss you . . . that I got to see you before we left."

"Me too."

He seemed a little nervous. "Listen, can I call you? Maybe we can see where this goes?"

His request caught me off guard and I turned into a stuttering mess. "I don't kn—I mean, really? Is that—"

Now it was his turn to be unsure. "Sorry, I thought you—nevermind . . . I just thought . . ."

Great, so neither of us was capable of coherent communication. But my concerns weighed heavy.

"Last night . . . well, it's just not something I normally do. So, I guess I'm struggling a little because I don't know what's supposed to happen next." There, honesty.

He reached for my hand and stroked my fingers. "There aren't any rules. Whatever we want to happen next is what happens next. And last night wasn't something I normally do either, okay?"

"Really?"

He must've read all my doubts and questions in that single word.

"Yes, really," he said, watching me intently. "Why? Did I do or say something that made you think otherwise?"

"No, no, you didn't . . ."

He regarded me for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side and scrunching his eyebrows. "I didn't . . . did somebody else say something?"

Again I stuttered a few false starts before he said, "Bella?" urging me to answer him.

I looked away, embarrassed that I had allowed a stranger to get to me, even if only a little.

"Um, there was this guy on the elevator who kind of insinuated . . ."

His head dropped back and he whispered, "Fucking James."

"I'm sorry," I said, taking notice of how many times that phrase had been uttered in the past ten minutes.

He tapped at his phone for a few seconds before holding it up for me to see. "Was it this guy?"

I skimmed the faces in the picture seeing him, Emmett, Jasper and a couple guys I didn't know, but there on the far end was the man from the elevator.

"Yeah, that's him."

He nodded as if expecting my answer. "He works with us. He always tries to be _that_ guy and is known to pull shit like this when someone pays attention to one of the guys rather than him. I'm sorry if he made you uncomfortable, but I swear to you that he's full of it."

"Don't worry about it. I understand. And that wasn't even really . . ." I trailed off, not wanting to finish and say that wasn't the issue because I knew it would open the door to an uncomfortable conversation about what my actual issues were.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

He looked so sincere that that it was nearly impossible to not just say "to hell with it."

"I just don't know how it'll work," I said, almost wanting to cry at the thought of it because with him in front of me like this, _all_ I wanted to do was make it work. "I don't live here . . . and neither do you . . . how-?"

I stopped when he started grinning. He had this little bounce as he shifted his weight from side to side as if some secret was just trying to burst out of him.

"What?" I asked, his reaction starting to make me self-conscious.

"You weren't paying attention at all last night when we were all in the bar talking, were you?"

I started to protest, but I knew he was right. More importantly, _I_ knew that _he_ knew he was right. "Well, it was kind of loud in there," I justified.

He shook his head and laughed. "I live less than an hour from you."

I wasn't expecting him to say that. "What?"

He laughed again and leaned closer, lowering his voice to a level that made my whole body shiver. "Were you so distracted by the kilt that you didn't even bother to read my shirt to see which PD I was there representing?"

"You're serious," I said, stunned.

He nodded. "So, about that whole seeing where this goes thing?"

I couldn't have stopped the smile from spreading if I'd wanted to. "Yes! Yes, of course!"

He laughed at my exuberance and pulled me in for a long overdue kiss. It was a little awkward since we couldn't stop smiling, but it was perfect. All attempts to hang onto a little bit of seriousness failed as neither of us could help but break into grins and laughter each time out lips touched.

The next hour was spent hand in hand touring the exhibits until he and the other guys had to leave for the airport. As guilty as I'd felt that he'd postponed their flight so he could come find me before they left, I couldn't help but be flattered at the effort. Alice, Rosalie, and I saw them off somewhere around the third—or was it the fourth?—floor, then collapsed into a fit of schoolgirl giggles as soon as they were out of earshot.

There was yet one more day left of my conference. I was still eager for it to be over so I could go home. The only difference was that my reason for heading home at changed: I had a new relationship to nurture and a really cute boy in a kilt to enjoy whenever I wanted.


End file.
